Tag Archives: The Story of Jasmine

This is a continuation of notes for The Story of Jasmine that were written on Italian Stationery in Cortona, Italy:

Rogan hesitated for a moment, then surrendered his weapon to whom he supposed was the Guardian of the Temple. For the first time, he felt the same frustration Thorne described. He felt naked without his sword.

“Come.” Rogan followed the dwarf, and his sword, inside inner sanctum of the temple. He immediately noticed that the light became brighter as they progressed past many columns and down many steps.

Presently, they stood in front of a small, open room. With a nod, the dwarf bid him enter. He kept Rogan’s sword at the ready.

Almost without thinking, he sank to his knees when he first beheld the maiden in white. She stood, trance-like on an elevated platform of stone. There were many white flower petals stuck on her glistening-wet skin. Wet petals also crowned her head, the water flowing down from her head like tears upon her face.

Before her was an oblong trough. Although Rogan could not see its contents, from the diamond-ripple reflections dancing upon the maiden’s ecstatic face and the wall behind her, he knew it contained water. But there was something more.

Submerged in the sparkling waters was the source of a brilliant white light.

These notes for The Story of Jasmine were written in Cortona, Italy because they are written on Italian Stationery:

Rogan judged it to be well after mid-night by the time he reached the temple. On his way, he passed many stone statues of soldiers. Although it occurred to him that these statues seemed too new for an ancient temple, he wasted no more thought as to how this came to be.

The closer he got to the ancient building, the more numerous the statues became until the statuary cover the entire temple grounds. Rogan then noticed the look of surprise, which appeared on each stone face. For the first time, Rogan grew concerned, “Were these statues once men?”

“Heigh Ho! Are you friend or foe?” called a voice from within one of the chambers. Rogan whirled around in the direction of the call.

“Friend!” He answered quickly, then shielded his eyes in anticipation of some dreadful sorcery. He heard some bustle within the chamber and the slow approach of footsteps.

“Nothing will happen to you if you are indeed a friend,” a voice told him.Rogan looked up and noticed the stocky figure of a dwarf approaching him. He was a mature dwarf, with a graying beard and piercingly clear grey eyes. He wore several daggers and a battle-axe hung at his side as was the custom of mercenary dwarf-warriors, the like he had only heard about. Rogan duly noted the proud bearing of this man, not unusual in a warrior-for-hire.

Remembering the stone statues, Rogan thought it most prudent to kneel before him. This was not the doing of an ordinary mortal. The dwarf touched him on the shoulder and said, “it is good you humble yourself to the maker of miracles. But friend, it is not I. Give me your sword and I will guide you to a marvel.”

As excellent a horseman as he was, Ahearn could not follow the pale princess-maiden, Jasmine. He rode swiftly up the mountain path and sought to overtake her. At the next turn, his steed suddenly reared and threw him.

From the ground, he beheld the sight of a white maiden on a white stallion, luminous against the evening sky. She faced him with burning eyes as she thrust her staff in the air. With an edge to her voice, she spoke, “You sought to trick me — why?”

Only then did he recognize the apparition as Jasmine, more glorious and beautiful than he had seen any woman. “Not to trick you,” he called, dusting himself off and getting to his feet, “to let you understand … that I am your husband—your betrothed—according to a royal decree, signed and sealed by both our fathers, binding the Kingdom of UR to the Kingdom of Elfvenhogg on condition of our marriage! My armies can free your father from his imprisonment … think of it!”

She rested her staff, “Yes, ah yes, the dark half-elves of Elfvenhogg, renowned for their many skills. But you, Prince Ahearn of Elfvenhogg, should know above all others that the princess you seek has long since vanished.”

To Ahearn’s relief, Jasmine insisted she be alone in her visit to the Ancient Hollow. Her white stallion pranced lightly and safely across an old and delicate stone and wooden structure, a rickety bridge between two mountains.

Ahearn’s steed bounded hard and quick behind her, causing the weakened wood and stone to crumble underneath him. His horse reacted expertly. By the time Ahearn reached the other side, the link between Jasmine and her protectors had fallen in pieces to the bottom of a deep chasm.

Although this maneuver was a marvel to all that witnessed it, Glynn recognized Ahearn’s excellent horsemanship and suspected his purpose was to deliberately separate them. But without concern, Jasmine called to her companions left on the other side, reassuring them that they would be reunited after she completed her visit to the Ancient Hollow.

Jasmine then urged her stallion onward towards her goal.

Ahearn hesitated. The half-elf’s horse was still for a moment, as Ahearn regarded the temper of the companions he left behind. He snickered when he saw Glynn’s livid expression. In an air of victory, he lightly galloped his horse after Jasmine.

***Note: This is definitely an alternative version from what I posted earlier, where Jasmine alone escapes an attack and her entire party gets captured, while she, on the next mountain, watches helplessly…

Although an autumn nip is in the air, she finds the water surprisingly warm. With a delightful sense of abandon, Jasmine swims carelessly about, rejoicing in a freedom she’d never known. She quickly composes herself as she senses another presence. She darts underwater and hides among the reeds. Slowly, she acknowledges the calling of her name.

“It is I.” the voice moans through the reeds.

“Where are you–show yourself.”

“There is little time–and I have so much to say. I no longer have a body–these reeds serve as my mouthpiece. I had hoped to fully reincarnate, but i cannot. There is a great danger for everyone — the witch Melantha is a far greater adversary than the dark prince. Make haste to the north and enlist the aid of the Ice King. Although his heart is cold, he can still be reached. Go to the council of the winds as soon as you acquire a trustworthy escort. I will guide you there. You are now baptized in the holy water of this ancient temple. By the time you leave, you will know where to find new raiment and my staff–use them with pride.”

“Yes, it is I,” the reeds rustled a wispy reply, “my spirit waited an age for you to be born. Find my staff in the Ruins and use it with the knowledge I will teach you. This land has so little time—you must learn quickly…”

The wind died and with it, the voice of Enel Rad. The magic had gone.

Jasmine only heard the crackling of dried leaves. Making her way to the Ruins, she no0ticed a stone which had been recently moved. Beyond that stone, in a small alcove lay the powerful staff of the Wizard Enel Rad. As she grasped the magical wand, she felt the strength of an age rush through her. In that moment, she was baptized Jasmine, The White Flower of Deliverance.

OMG! I unexpectedly found a bunch more notes for “The Story of Jasmine” in a hanging file folder. . . and they seem to be an alternate version of events.

This would be Snippet #103:

Although an autumn nip was in the air, the young woman found the shallow water by the ruins of an ancient temple inviting. With a delightful sense of abandon, she rejoiced in a freedom she had never known. Sensing another presence, she quickly hid herself among the reeds. Remaining still for a long while, she concentrated on each sound until one became prevalent among the rest. Slowly, she acknowledged the sound as the calling of her name—but not the name her parents gave her.

No longer afraid, she emerged from her hiding place, her nakedness gleaming in the autumn sun. “Jasmine”—her name before she was born—she embraced it with her entire being.

Strengthened by the revelation, Jasmine heard for the first time the raspy voice of the reeds. With reverence and a certain heaviness, Jasmine uttered the name of the great and legendary wizard who had wandered these parts in the days of old.

“Yes, it is I,” the reeds rustled a wispy reply, “my spirit waited an age for you to be born. Find my staff in the Ruins and use it with the knowledge I will teach you. This land has so little time — you must learn quickly…”

The She-Demon of Melantha’s Faction from JASMINE: The Battle for the Mid-Realm collector card game.

People have been waiting and asking for Jasmine Snippet #100. I’m gratified to know that there is enough interest to generate anticipation. How great is that?

I believe we are at the climax of the first book of The Story of Jasmine.

I have halted at the point when Jasmine is being tested by the winds; her comrades captured by cannibals, a faery dragon is wounded, a magician is angered… It would be nice and poetic to be able to wrap that all up in a nice long post for Snippet #100. But there are too many scenes, to accomplish that feat.

This is far from the ending of the Original Jasmine story; it’s merely a stop along Jasmine’s arduous journey North. My notes continue well past this point. But I don’t want to get beyond myself. I think I have a book here and so it behooves me to go back, edit, and fill in the missing details. If I’m moving too much ahead by publishing more snippets beyond Book I, I will not be able to place the needed focus on preparing for publication, the 1st part of The Story of Jasmine.

This is something my Patreon champions are helping me to accomplish. I still intend to be posting more of The Story of Jasmine, but my patrons will get dibs on seeing it first.

If you want to consider becoming a patron to get an inside glimpse of a work in progress, please visit Darlene’s patreon page.